Rotten Fruit
by ClosetSkeleton
Summary: Matthew's in love...with his brother. AU, caname, ukus, cuba/canada, Incest.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: Before I get a bunch of people crying: this contains incest. Gay incest. It will also contain dubious sexual acts.

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It was seventh grade when Matthew began to have feelings for Alfred. The kind of feelings he shouldn't have for his brother. The kind of feelings that made girls blush and boys stutter. The kind that kept Matthew awake so many countless, aching nights.

It would be impossible to say how the idea first entered Matthew's brain, but once it was there it haunted him day and night. One moment they were playing Mortal Kombat the next Matthew was fantasizing about what it would feel like to kiss Alfred's cheek, to run his fingers through his golden hair.

Those fantasies were so innocent, though as the years went on and his visions grew and festered into things much more shameless than his 13-year-old mind could ever imagine. Instead of entwined hands he thought of entwined tongues. Instead of images of Alfred smiling there were images of Alfred panting. Panting and moaning his name, that's what Matthew wanted.

With his ever growing appetite Matthew became bolder. He could not help but steal glances of Alfred when he went to change his clothes and Matthew loved to "accidents" brush up against him in passing. But where as the heat in his stomach remained a steady flame, his patience was burning low. He hated that Alfred never looked at him the way he looked at Alfred. Why was his brother so oblivious to the yearning that was gnawing at his very core? Could Alfred not sense the eyes that roamed his body when he turned his head?

Though Matthew was loathe to admit, some nights when he took his lust into his own hands he wished Alfred would catch him. He wished Alfred would hear his groans and see what he was doing to him every night. It would be easy, Matthew knew. They shared a room and how many nights had he himself caught Alfred in the act? The boy was so vocal and so thoughtless that it was not hard to know the nights when teenage urges overtook him.

But no, Matthew would not do that, not wittingly at least. No, he would keep his sinful secret just that, a secret. Matthew figured it was easier to appreciate a lion from afar rather than in a cage with one.

That was, until Alfred came home with a lion of his own.

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a/n: The lion metaphor is pretty weak but I still kind of like it. I wrote this in all of ten minutes, it's a plot bunny I couldn't get out of my head. Although, truthfully I should be working on Motel 6. Will continue soon. Next chapter should be a lot longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur Kirkland was a foreign exchange student from England and the same year as Matthew. Matthew shared a few classes with him, Calculus and Art history, but Arthur's immediate popularity doubled with Matthew's inherent introversion provided little time to get to know the other boy personally. He had studied the boy from afar, a pastime Matthew was quite good at but not particularly proud of, and noted that Arthur was a know-it-all. He dressed as though he was always expecting a job interview, all argyle and muted tones and his sharp, thick eyebrows created a habitually severe expression on his face. Not that this impaired him from gaining a strong following of squealing girls and intrigued boys; his accent did most of the heavy lifting. Every phrase uttered out of his mouth became the word of God in the eyes of his peers.

In actuality, Matthew had been mostly indifferent to Arthur. He had never wronged him... Like the majority of the student body (the exception being his brother and Carlos, a not-really friend of Matthew's) Arthur ignored him in favor of chatting up the other, more memorable classmates. This, however, suited Matthew. The only person's attention Matthew craved was Alfred's and he held little resentment toward Arthur's virtually unspoken rejection.

But that was when Arthur was just another face in the herd and not sauntering into his home right behind Alfred. Matthew was almost immediately repulsed to see his classmate walk in as Alfred shouted a greeting.

"Hey, Mattie! Arthur here said he'd help me with my English homework," Alfred grinned as he patted Kirkland's shoulder, "Isn't that great?"

Matthew looked at Arthur from head to toe, but it was the almost smug grin on his face, as if he knew Matthew's secret, that branded itself in Matthew's memory. He muttered, "Great."

Alfred must not have heard or had failed to recognize the lack of enthusiasm in Matthews's voice because he went practically prancing into the kitchen to get Arthur something to drink.

"Hello, uh- Marcus," Arthur said.

Matthew scowled, "It's Matthew."

"That's right. We've got Pottery or something together, haven't we?"

"Yeah, something like that," Matthew said plainly.

They stood there awkwardly, hardly making eye contact, until Alfred came bonding back, two sodas and a bag of chips in hand.

"You know," Arthur said in his incredibly annoying accent, "We call those crisps back home."

Arthur smirked as Alfred, poor, oblivious Alfred, ogled him. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. Arthur was exotic, interesting and he clearly had some interest in Alfred as well of the hand on his brother's arm was anything to go by. It made him want to vomit. Unable to take much more of the sickening interaction, Matthew slipped on his jacket and headed to the door.

"Where you going, Mattie?" Alfred asked sweetly as his hand gripped the door knob.

Matthew turned back to him as he tried to master his expression, "To Carlos's."

As he left he practically slammed the door. He thought about taking the car bit decided a health stroll down the street would help him cool off a little. However, by the time he reached Carlos's house he was feeling no less forgiving.

He knocked on the door brutally, tapping his foot impatiently on the concrete. Carlos answered the door, face brightening when he saw Matthew.

Carlos invited Matthew inside immediately and stalked to the stairs without a word. Mrs. Morata, a wild haired, large woman, waved a greeting as they passed the steaming kitchen. They headed up a cramped staircase. Matthew bumped into one or two picture frames on the way. Carlos's room was the third on the right and he took Matthew by the wrist once inside.

At once, Matthew found himself being pressed up against the door. Carlos's hands found their way to his hips and he ground against Matthew.

"It's been so long," Carlos groaned eagerly into Matthew's neck, "_Too_ long."

Matthew nodded, not in the mood say anything more. Carlos eventually relented, a patch of purple and a line of slobber left in his wake, and headed to his nightstand. He pulled out a bottle of lube, grinning as he flashed it to Matthew.

"You want top or bottom?" He asked courteously.

"Top," Matthew said with little hesitation. He was in no mood to lie back.

Carlos made himself comfortable on the bedding and stripped down to nothing. Matthew looked over his not-really friend. Carlos had retained his bulk, he was thick around the thigh and neck. His hair was thick as ever and pulled back away from his face. Nothing had really changed about him, he was still the stout teen he remembered. Not that he would have cared either way, he was little concerned about Carlos's appearance. As long as he closed his eyes he could still imagine it was Alfred.

Carlos prepared himself with no shame. He had enough experience that getting up to three fingers was a non-issue and in no time he was tossing the bottle of lube to Matthew. Matthew's pants and boxers were off in seconds and he had himself in his own hand. Looking at Carlos finger himself had done little to arouse him but if he closed his eyes a bit and imagined his younger brother it took only seconds to get him firm. He supposed he should feel guilty, thinking about his brother while Carlos sat there eagerly, but he couldn't bring himself to.

They fell together easily, they had done this dance so many times that it came almost instinctually. Carlos would pull Matthew close, large arms locking around his waist and Matthew would shut his eyes tight as Carlos panted into his ear. It was a challenge to envisage it being Alfred beneath him when Carlos was huffing so deeply, when his chest hair scraped across Matthew's front, when his large, calloused hands squeezed at his hips.

"Matt," Carlos groaned at a particular thrust, "Matt, slow down. I wanna enjoy this."

"Shh," Matthew hissed, though he did slow his pace a fraction. He didn't want to hear Carlos right now, all he wanted to hear was Alfred in his dreams, Alfred moaning his name.

Carlos pulled Matthew down to his lips and pressed his tongue into his mouth. It, like everything else about Carlos, was thick and strong and it tangled wetly with his own. Carlos tasted like the cigarettes he nicked from Ivan Braginsky and like the tequila his father kept on the third shelf in the kitchen. Carlos tasted like Carlos and so unlike Alfred.

Matthew tried to pull away casually but it only served to make Carlos press him closer. In the beginning of their strange relationship it had been easy to block Carlos out and replace him with his brother but with each passing exchange it seemed Carlos became less and less ignorable.

A hand encircled Matthew's and pulled it down to his aching member. Matthew jerked away for at first until Carlos moaned, "Come on Matt, make me cum."

Reluctantly, Matthew wrapped his hand around Carlos and tugged in time with himself. It was only moments until Carlos was spent and semen coated the both of them. Matthew withdrew his hand immediately, again focusing on his fantasies and within minutes he climaxed as well.

They separated and Matthew rolled off the bed. He dressed quickly and pulled on shoes.

"You know, I've been thinking," Carlos said as he lit a cigarette.

"What?" Matthew sat back down grudgingly.

"I was just thinking that we should make this official. It'd be so much easier that way."

"No," Matthew bolted up heading to the door.

Still completely nude, Carlos jumped up as well, "Just think about it, okay? Please, I really care about you , Matt."

"Carlos-"

"Please." He said, brown eyes watching him intensely.

Matthew hesitated for a moment. They could never really be a thing, he and Carlos, but the look on his not-really friend's face made his chest clench guiltily.

"Fine," He said, biting his lip and he rushed out the door.

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a/n: Just to mention I don't hate Arthur or think English accents are "annoying". I have a feeling a bunch of people are going to think I have some issue with him, but rest assured I don't. This is more or less an "unreliable narrator" situation.

This is not a Cuba/Canada story. Sorry if that threw you off, especially with Matt topping. I know that's a squick for some people. It's not really my cup of tea either but it's part of a grander scheme.

If you couldn't put two and two together, Carlos = Cuba.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed/followed/read, it makes me smile.

Sorry this took me so long to write, I'm an amateur artists and I've been trying to get back into drawing everyday so writing has been put on the back burner a bit. I'll try to balance both appropriately so I can still work on this, too.

Just a heads up, though, my story has been reported for inappropriate content, and while I'm not afraid to break the rules I just wanted to say if (which I believe is a very slight chance of it coming to pass) this gets taken down it will still be available on my ao3 account (under the same title/username). Anyway, on to the story.

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Matthew had never viewed Alfred as a sexual being before. Well, not in the normal sense. He thought about him, about the things he would like to do with him, but he could never see Alfred initiating anything on his own. Alfred seemed far out of the reach of lust; he still crinkled his nose up in mock disgust whenever Jack kissed Rose. Yes, Alfred had urges. Yes, Matthew knew he felt things like pleasure, but to think that Alfred might lust after someone? It was ludicrous. No, Matthew was under the firm belief that Alfred gave into his hormones, nothing more. He did not picture a person when he touched himself. He never fantasized about anyone. He did not moan someone's name.

But that night he did. Alfred moaned a name, one that shook Matthew to the core.

"Arthur." He said. Like it was nothing. Like it hadn't shattered Matthew's world. Like it didn't fill him with boiling jealousy.

Alfred had only known Alfred for about a month, though they spent just about every weekend together as of recent. Alfred for the most part was his regular self, loud and excitable, if not a slight bit shy around Arthur. Arthur, on the other hand was even more annoying as far as Matthew could tell. He would strut about their house whenever he came over with that smug look on his face that made Matthew want to beat him with his hockey stick.

Matthew wanted nothing more than to shake Alfred out of his licentious stupor and remind him just who slept beside him every night. And why shouldn't he? Where was Arthur when Alfred scarped his knee? Where was Arthur when Alfred cried? When their father had died? However, Matthew knew he couldn't. It would ruin everything Matthew had worked for. Alfred would never be able to look at him the same again.

So Matthew had simply lain in bed, for the first time trying to ignore the sounds of his brother.

Morning did not come soon enough for Matthew who had found himself unable to sleep even after his brother had finished. He passed Alfred on the way out the door, but stopped to admire him if only for a moment. His shirt was drawn up above his stomach baring the tanned skin beneath and his arms were thrown in whichever direction. Matthew smiled at how his hair fell so messily around his head, it was just so Alfred-like, wild and untamable.

When Alfred finally dragged himself out of bed Matthew and their mother were already at the table. Alfred whooped as he sat down to eat, a stupid grin split on his face. He chattered on about his plans to meet up with Arthur (again) and go hiking.

In a bit of a spiteful mood, Matthew asked in a measured tone, "Did you sleep well last night?"

Matthew knew it was cruel to tease his brother, but he loved to make him squirm. Red spread across Alfred's face like vivid paint in water and he looked down at his plate of bacon and eggs.

"It was okay," He said nervously. Matthew passed Alfred the plate of pancakes and reveled when their hands brushed against each other.

Matthew smiled and noted passively, "I only asked because you were tossing and turning so much, hope you're not getting sick."

"Are you sick?" Their mother asked worriedly, putting a hand to Alfred's fiery forehead, "Your face is really hot."

"No, I'm fine," Alfred said quickly and pulled away from her hands, "I was gonna go hang out with Arthur today."

"I think maybe you should stay in bed today, I don't want you to be sick on Monday," She frowned, "You've already lost attendance credit."

"But, Mom, I'm really-"

"It's alright, Alfie," Matthew interrupted, "I'll stay home with you. We can watch a movie or something."

"But I'm fine, really! Besides, you've got hockey practice," Alfred said adamantly, though his face was still rubicund. Whether it was from persistent embarrassment or from current frustration Matthew did not know.

"I can skip a day," He reassured Alfred. Really he knew he shouldn't, Braginsky would be pissed he missed, but the prospect of having Alfred all to himself was a cause that was more than worthy of time.

"It's settled then. Really, it's just one Saturday. You can see your friends next week," Their mother said and with that she left, briefcase and thermos in hand.

Alfred scowled, but Matthew felt great relief that Alfred would be forced to spend time with him rather than Arthur Kirkland, who seemed to have an issue with keeping his limey hands to himself.

His brother's bitterness dissolved quickly as they played video games the rest of the afternoon. Truthfully, Alfred was more interested in actually playing the game, Matthew was just happy to be spending time with his younger brother. He snickered every time he would beat Alfred and he'd scrunch up his face in disappointment, his face was always so expressive. What was even better, though, was when Alfred would win and laugh with his whole body.

That's what he truly appreciated about his brother; Alfred was so genuine in everything he did.

Alfred won once again and did a little jig before gloating, "And the champion reigns supreme! Just admit it, Mattie, I'm the best!"

"Oh, yeah?" Matthew said playfully.

"Yeah," Alfred affirmed breathlessly, smiling with his eyes.

Matthew smiled back and tackled his brother onto the floor. They both wrestled each other until Alfred ended up beneath Matthew, at his mercy. He saw this time to attack and tickled Alfred's sides. His brother squirmed and giggled, something that Alfred would deny later, as he tried to throw Matthew off of him. Unrelenting, though, Matthew continued to run his fingers along his sides.

"Matt-Matt, stop," He choked out between breaths, "I can't bre-breath!"

"Say 'Mercy'!" Matthew goaded.

"Nev-er!" He squealed, despite the tears coming to his eyes.

Hesitantly, he slipped his hand beneath Alfred's shirt under the guise of continuing his attack. His fingers grazed over his brother's soft, heated skin and for a moment Matthew considered whether or not he really did have a fever because his skin burned so delightfully beneath his own. Alfred noticed, but did nothing more than laugh more and try to push his shirt back down as he shook his head wildly. Having Alfred squirming beneath him was such an attractive position, too attractive. It made his hands tingle and heart beat faster, much faster than it ever did during his bouts with Carlos. Matthew rolled himself off of his brother, who was literally tickled pink, before he could realize Matthew was becoming a little bit too excited.

Tears rolling down his face, Alfred sighed, "You really are evil, Mattie!"

Matthew considered it for a moment, but then shook his head, chuckling. If that was him being evil, he wouldn't want to know what Alfred would say if he did all the things he wanted to do to Alfred.


	4. Chapter 4

a/n: Ha, you know that awkward moment when you realize you've written half the chapter in present tense and the other half in past tense? I always have trouble with that. God, I just keep falling into new fandoms :I ROTG has taken over my life! In brighter news, it's summer vacation so I'll have more time on my hands to write (though, I probably will waste it sleeping OTL.) Sorry this is so short and it took so long to update.

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Alfred was pliable beneath his hands. He flowed beautifully underneath the gestures of Matthew's hands, not unlike a ribbon in the wind. His body was softer than Matthew's; Alfred's hands lacked the roughness of Matthew's, a remnant of the hockey rink. Alfred was everything Matthew had imagined and more.

It was slick skin and breathy moans that called Matthew closer and wet lips met in the middle. Their tongues pressed and slid together, and Matthew realized that his brother tasted as sweet as the candies he often indulged in; Alfred tasted better than anything he had savored before. Matthew pulled away for only a moment before kissing a line from the younger boy's clavicle up to his ear lobe, the skin sticky from his exertion, producing a breathy giggle from him. It was all so sweet and hazy and warm and-

It was a sharp cold that woke Matthew Saturday night. His entire body tensed and his head shot off his pillow only to see his younger brother slipping beneath his sheets, his cold feet skimming against Matthew's shins. Immediately his body went limp and he sunk back down into his pillow, his erection ebbing quickly.

"Alfred?" he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing.

"I heard a noise," Alfred whispered as he burrowed further into the bedding and Matthew, whom did his best to ensure his brother would not discover his wet dream's unfortunate effect. Alfred quaked as a gust of wind shook the window, nestling closer to him, and Matthew reached out a clumsy hand to reassure him, something that Alfred hungrily accepted.

"Bed's not made for two," Matthew slurred, still half asleep, but he had no real intention on kicking Alfred out, "Feet are freezing."

"Mattie…"

Matthew just hushed him and pulled him closer, enjoying the way Alfred's mane of blond hair brushed up underneath his chin. It felt so nice to have Alfred that near when recently it seemed his brother was as distant as ever, always hanging out with that slimy exchange student. Just the name "Arthur" made Matthew wretch.

Morning came too soon and Alfred had already slipped out of bed by the time Matthew had awoken. The rest of his dreams that night had been relatively tame, but that wasn't to say he had enjoyed his night with Alfred any less than his lust filled dreams. He sat up, hands running over the spot Alfred had previously occupied. Alfred had been there, had lain right beside him, in his arms. That was worth more than any worldly possession, and Matthew shivered at the memory of it.

Eventually, he stumbled out of bed and made his way to the shower. The water was warm enough, and it washed away the remnants of drowsiness from his head and revived his desire from the night before. He moaned as his body ran hot and his erection came to life in his hand. Matthew knew he could just stop then and save his lust for a bout with Carlos, to have physical contact with someone other than himself, but he could not bring himself to stop as wild imaginations of his brother ran through his head. It was so juvenile, so sinful at its purest, but in the end his need won out and his body shook with his climax.

He let the white of his come wash from his hand and the shower floor, gaining his breath back and allowing his heart a break, before getting out.

When Matthew finished he made his way down the hall where his mother was preparing her dossiers for work.

"Where's Alfred?" Matthew asked casually, taking a seat at the kitchen bar.

His mother looked up from her files for only a second and sighed, "Somewhere with that Australian kid…. Arthur, right? He was in such a rush; He didn't even say where they were going."

"You didn't ask?" Matthew said.

"I tried, but I'm so busy I didn't have time to interrogate him," She said as she head to the door, balancing briefcases, books and her sack lunch, "I'll see you later, Honey. Be good."

And she was out the door.

Matthew bit his lip and groaned. Of course Alfred was out with Arthur, it was really no surprise. Still, Matthew had the sudden urge to go looking around for the pair, despite how creepy it sounded. It filled his bones with a certain bitterness to know his brother had been so close just hours before and was now so far away.

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a/n: I usually don't reply to specific reviews (which, thank you guys so much; you're all lovely, beautiful, supermegafoxyawesomehot) but there was an anonymous review that said something about this being updated about once a month. Sadly, I'm just a slow writer. There's really no rhyme or reason to my updating schedule… which you now know because it's been longer than a month.


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